The Angels in Hell
by Spinder-UndeadBallerina
Summary: Phantom of the Opera fanfic. The phantom's great-grandson is left alone when his father dies, but the boy finds a friend...set in present times. R&R s'il vous plait
1. Default Chapter

_Am I the "Angel in Hell", now? _Christoph wondered, staring at his father's body, _Is it a title that is passed down from Phantom to Phantom? Should I be proud of it? _

He pushed these questions to the back of his mind and, with a small nudge of his black boot, sent the small boat carrying the body of Sebastien, his father, off of the shore.

_How far does this sewer go, anyways? _Christoph began to wonder again; an old habit of his. _I've never been anywhere else but here. What is it like in other places?_

Oddly, he was not at all perturbed about his father's death. The man was insane, and besides that, he had been a burden to Christoph; he had to make sure Sebastien didn't do anything dangerous. His insanity became evident when he burned the right side of Christoph's face in order for the boy to be more like his great-grandfather. His great-grandfather was, of course, the original Phantom of the Opera. The way Sebastien talked about him, you'd think he was a god of sorts. Christoph often heard stories of him from his father.

Christoph had had mixed feelings for his father. Being his son, he had no choice but to show some compassion towards Sebastien, but besides that, Christoph was generally indifferent towards his father, so long as the man stayed away from him. It always worried him if Sebastien were too close, especially with all those candles around…

Christoph involuntarily touched the burns on his face and shuddered, preferring not to think about them. He chose not to cover the burns with his great-grandfather's mask for two reasons: the first being that the mask was too big for the young boy; the second was that there was no one around to see Christoph, so he did not care how he looked.

_Should I leave? _Christoph thought to himself. _Do I even know the way out? I can always try. If I get lost…oh well…_

Christoph pulled the lever that opened the sewer grate and walked through the water. He hesitated only for a moment before leaving what had been his entire world until now.

_I wonder what I will find out here…_


	2. Little Phantom

"After the fire in 1871, this opera house was said to be irreparable. But, then, in 1933…"

Christoph heard the man's voice from far below him, and looked over the edge of the catwalk. A group of young girls was gathered in front of the portly man who was explaining to them about the history of the Opera House.

"Uhm, sir," one of the girls said, raising her hand shyly, "What about…the Phantom?"

A few of the girls giggled nervously, others glanced around as though the mention of his name could bring the apparition's fury down upon them…and Christoph got an idea. These girls seemed so easily frightened, why not have some fun?

"Ah, yes," the man said, sighing, "A ghost story, no doubt-"

"Are you so sure of that?" Christoph yelled from his dark hiding place. To his delight, the girls let out several small shrieks.

"Who is that?" the man asked sternly, "Stop playing around, whoever you are!"

"So it seems you have the chandelier back up," Christoph said, trying hard not to laugh, "If you do not leave my Opera House immediately, it could come crashing down once more…"

The girls wasted no time, and were soon scrambling over each other in attempt to leave the haunted Opera Populaire.

"Girls! No, wait!" the man attempted to calm them, but to no avail. He sighed, and lifted his head to the ceiling, "Alright, whoever's playing these tricks is going to hear from me!"

"It's what you deserve for claiming that I don't exist," Christoph said, amusedly. Lost in his game, he forgot that he _wasn't _truly the Phantom of the Opera.

"So you're the Opera Ghost," the man said, crossing his arms. He obviously didn't believe Christoph. "I gather from your voice that you can't be older than twelve. Some Phantom! Come down now, boy."

Christoph backed further into the shadows. Should he show himself, it would be his first encounter with anyone besides his father. What if this stern man should greet him with the same horror as people had greeted his great-grandfather?

"No!" Christoph spat, and ran back down the hallway that he had come from. Uncertainty made him irritable, and he banged his fists against the walls and doors as he went, causing some of the ballerinas to open their doors cautiously once he was gone.

_I don't want to be a monster,_ Christoph thought as he stepped lightly into the boat that floated calmly on the water. _I don't want to be the Phantom…but I can't deny it…I am his heir, the newest "Angel in Hell"…_

Christoph walked sadly through his lair, trying to comfort himself with familiarity. His hand brushed against the white mask on the table. Lifting it up to his face, he judged that it would be several years before it would fit him. Until then, he would have to stay here, away from the world above him.


	3. If The Mask Fits

As it turns out, the portly man who had been so unconvinced by Christoph was none other than the grandson of Monsieur Jean Andre, one of the owners of the Opera Populaire when the original Phantom lived there. Therefore, this man, Maurice Andre, knew all about the Phantom and his antics those many years ago. Despite knowing where the Phantom lived, Maurice left Christoph alone.

Christoph, of course, couldn't help but leave a few notes here and there, over the years, to let his presence be known. Typically, an occasional congratulatory letter on the latest opera. It was long before Christoph decided to write a new note:

_Dear Monsieur Andre,_

_I have watched several rehearsals of your latest production, _The Marriage of Figaro, _and it seems quite promising. I request that you leave box 5 open for myself on the opening night. _

_Thank you,_

_O.G._

Maurice Andre sighed. "Just the way Grandfather said it was," he muttered, and stuffed the note into his pocket.

It had been precisely six years since this young Phantom had scared off the ballerinas (who, I might add, never came back again), and he had never ceased to make work amusing for Maurice with his notes. The old man only hoped that the apparition would not go as far as he did during that production of _Don Juan _so many years ago. Maurice glanced up at the chandelier hanging motionless from the ceiling, and could only imagine the damage that it did.

However, this phantom seemed passive enough not to cause much trouble. In fact, the most he had done was request to keep box 5 reserved for him, which wasn't any trouble for Maurice. He only wondered why the Phantom had not made this request earlier. He hoped that the reason wasn't because the Phantom disliked the other productions.

The real reason for Christoph's absence in the audience was the mask. This was the first opera of the year that he could attend because his great-grandfather's mask now fit him. He stood in front of one of the mirrors in his lair, trying his best to see his reflection in the shattered glass, and brushed his dark hair away before placing the mask on his face. He couldn't wait until the opening night of _The Marriage of Figaro_. He had waited so long in darkness.

"Only one more night," he said to his reflection. Sighing, he took the mask off to reveal the horrible scars and sat down at the piano. He tried to play, but his mind kept wandering to another thought:

"Only one more night…"


	4. Clumsy Coralie Meets the Myth

that's right! a new chapter! yay! i was reinspired after i bought the phantom dvd the other day.

R&R s'il vous plait

* * *

"No, no, no! To your left! Your _left!" _

The men holding the heavy plywood set piece let it fall.

"Monsieur," one of them said, "We've been moving this thing around the stage all morning! First you said you wanted it stage left, then center stage, now stage right?"

Maurice Andre sighed, and explained it to them again, "Visually, the best place for it is stage left-"

"Then why don't we keep it there?"

"_But,_ it would interfere with the chorus girls' dance sequence. Then again, on stage right, it would block Figaro's entrance…"

Maurice continued to talk, but the men (who had realized that this was cutting into their lunch break) discreetly sidled offstage.

"I suppose it was fine where it was before, but moving it could prevent further accidents. I still can't believe that that ballerina could run straight into it! I need to tell Margaret to work on that with her…"

Maurice also wandered away, a victim to his absentmindedness.

"Alright, from the top now, girls!" Margaret, the ballet instructor said. "And one to three, one two three, one two th- Oh, Coralie! No, no, _behind_ Suzette! See, you spin out two three, and step _back _two three."

Coralie nodded. "Ah, oui, Madame."

She was a girl of about sixteen, with mousy brown hair and green eyes. She was the newest ballerina at the Opera Populaire and she was still getting the hang of things, but not very well. She was clumsy at times, and to make things worse, even though her parents were French, she was American. According to the other ballerinas, she was ignorant and bigheaded, whichwas quite the opposite of her true personality.

Margaret clapped loudly a few times. "Again, s'il vous plait! And one two three, one two three…"

"Madame Giry?"

Margaret turned to Maurice.

"Oui, Monsieur Andre?"

"I've tried several different locations for the tree on the set, but it won't work anywhere but where it is. Could you just remind Mademoiselle Coralie to watch out for it during that dance?"

Margaret sighed. "Oui, Monsieur. That Coralie is quite a handful for such a quiet girl."

"She has great potential-"

"Oh, oui! She has great potential, but she always seems to be somewhere else. If she doesn't concentrate more on dancing, she will never be able to tap that potential."

"Just give her some time," Maurice said, "She'll be wonderful once she gets settled."

As if on cue, Coralie danced straight into a wall and fell hard on her backside. She promptly stood up, brushed herself off and walked towards the dorms.

"I'm going to the restroom," she mumbled as she passed Margaret and Maurice.

Once she rounded the corner to the bathroom, Coralie broke into a run. She locked the bathroom door behind her and pulled herself up onto the counter.

"Why do I have to be so clumsy? Everyone hates me because of it." she asked herself. A few tears fell on her leotard.

"Don't cry," a voice said. Coralie gasped and looked around, rubbing her eyes.

"Wh-Where are you?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

"Don't cry," the voice repeated.

"Please show yourself," she said shakily. The voice was beginning to scare her. She moved slowly towards the door, her hand on the knob, ready to run if she had to.

"I won't hurt you," The voice said. It sounded nearer. "You don't have to worry."

She gasped as a glove-clad hand firmly removed her own from the doorknob.

_It can't be! _Coralie thought, _The Phantom is a myth!_

But seeing that pale, masked face, she knew she wasn't looking at a myth. She wrenched her hand out of his grip and fumbled with the lock for only a moment before flinging the door open and racing down the hall.

"Madame Giry!" she shrieked, _"Madame Giry!" _

"Coralie!" Margaret said, alarmed, "What is it?"

"Madame!" Coralie panted, "The Phantom! In the bathroom! He tried to take me!"

The rest of the ballerinas laughed at her.

"Did he catch you with your pants down?" the one named Suzette sneered.

"_Girls!" _Margaret snapped, "That is _quite _enough!" She turned to Coralie. "Are you sure of what you saw? Perhaps you imagined it."

Coralie shook her head vigorously. "It was him! I swear!"

"Maybe you should go lie down, Coralie."

"But the rehearsal-"

"There will be another rehearsal later tonight. You can attend that one. Right now, all you need is rest."

"Merci, Madame."

Coralie reluctantly went to her room, all the while having a strange feeling that she was being watched…

* * *

ooh creepy christoph! following poor, clumsy coralie around everywhere, tsk tsk tsk! 


	5. A Meeting Before the Opera

wuh hoo! another chapter already? i must be insane!

* * *

Margaret Giry was a kind, but stern woman, named (as you may have guessed) after her great-grandmother, who usually went by the nickname Meg. Although she was named after her, Margaret was the spitting image of Meg's mother. 

Like Maurice Andre, Margaret knew all about the Phantom of the Opera. _Un_like Maurice, she knew how things had really been. She knew that the frightening apparition was only a man. He had been mortal like everyone else. Therefore, Margaret had been quite shocked to hear that Coralie had seen him. Of course, Maurice told her of all the notes he had received over the years and of the boy's voice he heard claiming to be the Phantom, but she had written them off as pranks. After all, if the Phantom were still alive, he'd have to be around 170 years old!

"_Pas possible!"_ Margaret whispered to herself as she watched Coralie walk to her room.

"Hm?" Maurice looked at her quizzically, "What's impossible?"

"She says she's seen the Phantom," Margaret said, "But that's impossible. There is no Phantom."

"I'm telling you, Madame Giry, that young boy that I heard six years ago is the Phantom! A young phantom, no doubt, but still…"

"A prank," Margaret said. She refused to believe that the Phantom had returned.

Coralie sat on her bed for a moment, staring at the wall. She heard a soft rustling behind her and spun around.

"No one there," she breathed, "Unless…"

She listened intently in the silence.

"Phantom?" she called out, tentatively.

"Coralie," the voice replied. Coralie stood and tried to follow it.

_Where is he…?_

She backed into the mirror and turned to see a masked face in the glass. Jumping back, Coralie covered her mouth to stifle a small scream. To her further surprise, the mirror began sliding open, and the Phantom's gloved hand reached out.

"Come with me," he said. His voice was so soft and uncertain, that it sounded like more of a suggestion than a command. Coralie hesitated for a moment before taking his hand.

_He sounds so sweet,_ she thought, _He can't be all bad…_

"What's your name?" Coralie asked as they walked along the dark passageway. At first, she thought he wouldn't reply.

"Christoph," he replied quietly and quickened his pace, Coralie trotting to keep up.

"Christoph, where are you taking me?"

This time he didn't respond.

They came to a glassy river, illuminated by candelabras on the wall. Christoph helped Coralie into the gondola on the water and they floated down the eerie canal.

* * *

"Coralie?" Margaret knocked on her door, "Coralie, it's time for rehearsal."

After a moment of silent, Margaret let herself in. Upon seeing the open mirror, she gasped.

"Oh no! It can't be," she whispered. Because of her stubbornness, one of her students had been abducted by the Phantom! "I have to get her back!"

Running from the room, Margaret went to alert Maurice.

"Why have you brought me here?" Coralie asked Christoph as she looked around the cavern.

"I have a favor to ask of you," Christoph said in his soft voice, "I'm ashamed to say that, most of the time, I am forced to steal to survive. If, every now and then, you could bring me supplies and food, I would be eternally grateful."

"But, why me?" Coralie asked, perplexed. Christoph smiled at her, surprising her somewhat.

"You seemed to be the most understanding in this opera house. Imagine me asking someone like that Suzette girl who's so cruel to you!"

Coralie laughed, "That's true, I guess. But, how did you know that she was mean to me?"

"So many questions!"

"Well, wouldn't you have questions if you were in my place?"

"I suppose," Christoph said thoughtfully.

"Here's another one," Coralie said, smiling, "How long have you lived here?"

"All my life. I've never been outside the Opera House."

He sighed wistfully and sat down at his piano, idly playing a few notes.

"You must get restless," Coralie said, and sat down next to him. She already liked this Phantom quite a bit. He was not at all like she had imagined a phantom would be.

"That's why I first began wandering around the Opera House itself," Christoph said, "At first, I just knew a route to the kitchen to get food, but eventually, I found others. Could you believe that there's a secret passage to _every _room in this building?"

"Every room?" Coralie asked incredulously. Christoph nodded.

"And I've found all of them," he said, and smiled proudly.

* * *

"_Dear Monsieur Andre," _Maurice read, _"Do not fear for Mademoiselle Coralie. I will take good care of her and ensure that she will be on time for the opera tonight, as will I. I look forward to seeing it. Sincerely, O.G."_

"This is all my fault," Margaret said sadly, "If she had not gone back into her room, he wouldn't have taken her!"

"Now, Madame," Maurice said, patting her shoulder, "The Phantom said that he would take care of her. She'll be back soon."

"Phantom," Margaret whispered, "I beg of you, keep your promise. Bring her back."


End file.
